Ancient Knowledge
by DragonsDeadAndDancing
Summary: When Aryna brought the Dwemer cube back to Avanchnzel something went wrong. Now the retired Dragonborn has to save the world again. Dwemer, Thalmor, Dov. R&R please!
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own TES. Bethesda does.**

**Enjoy.**

_Two months ago_

Calcelmo looked at the high elf in front of him, then at the papers she had given him, then at the Altmer again. The woman – she was very young, thirty or forty summers maximum – seemed nervous. She had a long face, golden eyes and skin and thick blond hair that fell loosely over her shoulders. Her overall appearance could only be described as "yellow", for she wore a belted tunica in this colour and high boots in a bright beige.

"Hmm." When Calcelmo made a sound, the other elf jerked. "Please help me, Aria. I can't quite see the reason for you being here. Master of Destruction and Conjuration degrees should give you any position in the lower ranks of the Thalmor, with good chances of making a career. Or you could have stayed in Alinor. Young talented mages like you have every opportunity one can think of, but you are here."

When the older man stayed silent, the women realised it was her turn to speak. "Uh … well, one of my teachers … Master Verano … he said it would be good if I would go to Skyrim. He spoke very highly of the mages here … the Thalmor, the court mages, the College. And although the College would give me a wider education, I think your research has more … hand-on experience." She hesitated. "And … my name, ah … it is Aryna, master. Not Aria." She blushed and looked at her feet.

"It's still quite a difference if you conjure Daedra or examine Dwemer artefacts", Calcelmo said, ignoring her last statement.

"I never dealt that much in enchanting, 'tis true, but I can learn a lot by assisting you, I learn quickly. And I know that you are running out of guards because the ruins are dangerous and your nephew's pet spider killed a few." Aryna dared to speak up. She _had_ to get this apprentice job! "I do not expect any payment but a bed and something to eat. If you are afraid that I steal your work, don't let me see it but _please_! This is a big opportunity for me, too big to let it pass." Damn. She sounded like she was crying. Calcelmo wouldn't take her, he knew she was hiding something. Divine and Daedra, please…

"Aicantar!" Aryna was startled but had no time to think. Calcelmo's nephew came in. The older man looked at her again. "I think you haven't told me everything, but you don't look like a thief and your references are impressive. Tomorrow at dawn we are going to Nchuand-Zel. I expect you to be ready to clear out the spiders that have infested the first part of the ruin. Now get some sleep. Aicantar, arrange quarters for her, show her around and everything. I don't have the time to play the wet-nurse for two of your sort!"

_One month ago_

The numbers and sketches, the voices and feelings came with full force that night. Aryna woke with a gasp when the memory of a sword injury hit her. The pictures became stronger with every passing day. _I'm running out of time_, she thought. The elf cast a mage's light and looked around in her chamber. The little room in the Understone Keep had maybe been a wardrobe in Dwemeri times, but was big enough for a bed and a small table.

Thanking every god she could recall for the existence of paper, she started to put the scenes down in ink. Writing and drawing usually released the pressure of memories on her mind. This night there were construction plans for centurions, the first kiss of an elfling and the chords of a sad song about a bird and a dog. Last of all she wrote about the pain from the sword, then she let out a relieved breath.

The last months had given her insights in the dwarven culture and technology, but nothing helped her with her problem and she didn't dare to search through the memories. She could hardly keep them at bay; if she allowed them to enter her mind they would probably mix with her own or drive her mad. No, she liked the slower descent into madness better. Even now Aryna could feel the memories tug at the edges of her mind. Voices whispering quietly, words ready to speak, spells begging silently to be cast…

"Aryna?" Aicantar's voice silenced the memories. "Why are you still awake?"

"I just had a nightmare. No need to worry." She smiled at the Altmer. Their relationship felt a little bit weird-in Alinor, they would have been strictly separated-but had settled as not-quite-friends-more-than-colleagues. Siblings in pain, maybe, for Calcelmo treated both of them without mercy. But Aicantar had told her a lot about the old mer's work. She hadn't seen much of it for herself because her part on the expeditions was mostly to blast everything that stood in their way to Oblivion. "And you? I thought tomorrow would be an important day, new expedition and stuff…"

"Vaermina blessed me too tonight." He scowled and looked at the paper sheets on her desk. "What in Oblivion…?"

_Gods, no… _"Please, Aicantar, this isn't your uncle's work, I promise you-"

With two quick steps he stood at her side and took a sheet: "That's a centurion! Construction plans… What have you done? Calcelmo gave you a job, he trusted you! How _could_ you?"

Aryna looked at her feet, unable to meet the man's gaze. "This isn't Calcelmo's work. Mehrunes Dagon take my soul if I lie, but I didn't steal from you. Please let me explain."

The Altmer saw she was serious. "I'll give you a chance to tell the story. The _whole_ story. But not here."

The cold night air bit in Aryna's skin and burned in her lungs, but it also cleared her mind and that was what she needed. The two high elves stood side by side on Calcelmo's balcony and looked at the city below them.

After a while the woman broke the silence. "About two weeks before I came to you, I was in Riften. I was looking for an apprenticeship. When I walked through the harbour, a confused Argonian gave me a Dwemeri cube and said something about Avanchnzel. I was curious, went there and … it was strange. Memories of four adventurers stalked the hallways, telling and retelling their story. One of them was the madwoman from Riften.

"They wanted to steal the wisdom of Avanchnzel. The cube was the key to it. The Argonian – the sole survivor – took it with her but went mad. In the last hall I put the cube in its old place, but something went wrong. The memories entered me and now they haunt me. In my dreams, in the daylight. It's getting worse. Writing and drawing helps me to release the pressure, but I needed help. Since it was Dwemeri magic, I hoped I would find something by your uncle's work. I'm running out of time…"

A long, long time they stayed silent. Then Aicantar said: "You should have talked to Calcelmo immediately."

"Yes. But at first I didn't trust him and I didn't know how he would react when I would tell him later. I'm sorry."

Aicantar stood up. "Tell him. Tomorrow, before we go on the expedition. He will be furious, but under his harsh hide is a heart. I'll support you. He won't turn you away. He can't."

Tears filled Aryna's eyes. "Aicantar… Thank you. I cannot tell you what this means to me."

He smiled at her. "Go to bed now. Maybe you'll get some sleep."

Four hours later, they came for her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2! For my one and only beloved stalker!**

**Do I have to disclaim again? Disclaim, disclaim.**

**Review please! I'm satisfied with "good" or "bad". Three or four letters, two clicks, that's not a huge effort.**

**Enjoy.**

Val dismounted and took the deer from Olaf's back. First she took care of the huge one-eyed stallion, then she skinned her prey. _A fine stag_, she thought, _Valga will…_ She was interrupted by a strong arm whirling her around and a kiss.

"Solaf!" she chided her husband. "I'm full of blood … and guts … and I don't even know what _that_ is." But she smiled at Solaf, who just shrugged and kissed her again.

Their marriage had been a strange event. Although Solaf was a Nord and ex-Stormcloak and Valerie Salvarus an Imperial from Skingrad, they made a fine couple. Everybody agreed that they were practically made for each other (except Solaf's brother Bolund, a racist who spent the last three years drunken at the mill because he couldn't stand the "shame". But nobody cared for his point of view and he had a talent for spoiling everything.)

Val had come to Falkreath three years before and opened the "Dead Man's Mount" stables – obviously just for fun, because the sold horses could be counted on one hand. She and Solaf had slowly started courting, although most of the time was spent on persuading Bolund that not all outlanders were sent by Oblivion to destroy Skyrim. Half a year ago Solaf gave up and bought an Amulet of Mara.

Now the woman laughed. "You look like a butcher, do you know that?"

"Because you can't skin and gut a deer properly." Solar grinned. "But you're worth it. I love you, Val."

Her response was cut off by a familiar female voice that rose horrible memories stuffed in a dark corner of the Imperial's mind to new life: "Dragonborn!"

Valerie would have greeted almost every person who knew about her past friendly. Almost. Even Alduin the World-Eater himself was more welcome in the Dovahkiin's home than this woman.

"Delphine, shut up! I came here to have a nice peaceful – what happened to you?" The Blade, a Breton woman in her forties, looked like she had gone through Oblivion to get to Val. Her armour was bloody and torn and her left arm hung limp and useless at her side.

The blond warrior seemed to realise that there was another person present. Suddenly she drew a dagger and held it at Solaf's throat. The Nord seemed too confused to react. "Can you trust him?" Delphine hissed.

"By Akatosh, sheath your blade, you're threatening my husband!" When her order was fulfilled, Val sighed. "Now we can act as grown-ups. Delphine, this is Solaf, my husband. Solaf, I already told you about Delphine?"

The Nord nodded. He looked at the Blade curiously. "I think we should go inside. Val, you probably ought to take a bath, I can take care of Delphine's wounds."

Twenty minutes later, the three of them were properly washed and dressed. For the first time in a while, Val was grateful for the location of the stables outside the city. "Will they be suspicious if Grey Pine Goods stays closed?" she asked Solaf.

"There should be no problems."

"Good." The Imperial sighed and set down on a bench. "Delphine, why are you here? You know that I want a calm, quiet life without dragons or war or Blades. And who attacked you?"

The Blade was obviously more at ease. "After you forged a truce with the _dragons_" – the word sounded like "skeevers" – "the Blades fought the Thalmor. We killed messengers and mages, spied at the Embassy, you know." _You should have done it_, was Delphine's message. "A week ago our spy was found and executed, but in his last message he told us about a new kind of magic the Thalmor were preparing. Something that had to do with the Dwemer. I was attacked on the road to Falkreath."

_Because you wear Blade's armour in broad daylight_, Valerie wanted to say, but she held the words back. This was Delphine and there were not enough words in Tamriel to change her mind. "And now you want me to break into the embassy and get the information, right?" Delphine nodded. "And you think I want to go back to the good old times, slay a few dragons, burn all Thalmor?" Another nod. "And end the Civil War?"

"Stop mocking me! I would have asked someone else, but you have already been in the Embassy and you are the only available Dragonborn. Who else should go? _Esbern?_"

"There is a reason why I live in Falkreath. The only person who knows about my past is Solaf. Here I am a friend, a neighbour, a hunter. I go to the inn every day. But in Whiterun I have seen how the people treat the Dragonborn. I would be a hero and a warrior. Not a person."

Solaf just hugged her. He was not a talker, but he knew when she needed comfort. "I have lived in Falkreath for three years, but I don't know if it's enough."

Delphine didn't look impressed by Valerie's outburst. "Sometimes we have to sacrifice something for a greater good. If the Thalmor play with dwarven magic, just the Divines know what might happen to Skyrim. I have seen one of the metal creatures once. It killed three men. There are how many ruins in Tamriel? Forty? Imagine all these beasts coming out and wreaking havoc."

"Stop it."

"Let's say, ten creatures per ruin. This would mean four hundred ready to strike."

"Stop it!"

"This means one thousand two hundred dead people. And I have heard of bigger beasts which can kill ten or twenty-"

"I'll go, okay? If you swear to the Divine that you will leave me alone ever after…"

"Of course."


	3. Chapter 3

**Another chapter, another stalker. Welcome!**

**This story should actually have a "Horror" label because of Delphine.**

**Disclaim. Again.**

**Enjoy.**

Valerie rued her decision when she and Delphine arrived at the Thalmor Embassy. The Blade had annoyed her during the ride with tales about poor old Esbern, the bad supplies, the few recruits they had, all the while hinting that the Dragonborn could change it in a heartbeat. A few times she nearly took the bait, but she always managed to remember: That's Delphine.

_I should have forced her to walk_, Val thought. If she hadn't given the Breton a horse, she wouldn't have the breath to tell heart-breaking stories about the last Blades. The Imperial began to like the thought that she was going in the Embassy alone.

"What's your plan, Dragonborn?" the woman asked.

"I'll try the cave entrance first. Hopefully they haven't closed it. If it doesn't work, I come back to you and we figure something out. Don't worry."

"I don't worry, Dragonborn."

"I didn't dare to hope you would." She sighed. "Alright. Take care of Olaf." Val dismounted.

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One could hardly call this a cave. The tunnel under the Embassy was part sewer, part graveyard. But somehow, Val felt happy. She wore her old dragonbone armour – a present made by her friend Adrienne after she killed Mirmulnir and forged from his very bones – a matching shield and Dragonbane in her hand. She thought of the old, bloody times.

Valerie didn't really miss them. She had a good life in Falkreath and she didn't want to leave it behind, but battle had a certain feeling about it. Maybe "being alive". Or "no need to worry about tomorrow, we have to survive today". Even wearing her armour and stumbling through a dark place brought a hint of it back.

_If I remember correctly, the trapdoor is… Yes!_ She opened it slowly and looked around. The trapdoor opened in the prison cellar. Val couldn't see any guards, so she carefully sneaked to the stairs.

"Hi!" Valerie nearly jumped when she heard a friendly voice behind her. She turned around slowly.

The woman was a typical Altmer: blond, yellow skin, bright golden eyes. But she sat in a cell. Her hands were folded like for prayer – palms pressed together – but carefully bound behind her back. She was clad in filthy, blood-stained rags and bore torture marks on her body. Despite the various cuts and burns, she sat cross-legged and straight, even with a small smile on her thin lips.

Now she cocked her head: "Will you take me with you when you go out again? It has been quite nice for a while, but I think now I know the trick how I don't get mad. And I would very appreciate a bath."

"Uh…sure." Was Val dreaming? On Skooma? Had Sheogorath messed with her brain? Who _was_ that woman?

"What are you looking for?", the strange elf asked.

Valerie was not sure if she could trust her, but the wounds looked serious enough to her. Nobody would suffer them voluntarily. "A friend told me the Thalmor were looking for some strange Dwemer magic. Do you know something about it?"

"Kinda. Aicantar is the leading scientist, Ondolemar is the head of this operation. You are lucky. They departed for Markarth yesterday because Aicantar needs information from his uncle Calcelmo and Ondolemar is the local, hmm, inquisitor. They won't be back for at least two more days." She laughed. "But they are absolutely clueless; seriously, they know no more about Dwemeri magic than a horse. The ruins have sealed themselves."

"You are well-informed for a prisoner", said the Imperial.

"Do you still want to go upstairs?" the elf asked, ignoring her statement. "There should be…nine guards, I guess. Maybe eleven, maybe less. The torturer should be somewhere around here too. Please give her a kick or two if you meet her."

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The strange Altmer had been right. Nine guards, one mage and no information about the Dwemer. Val left the last office with empty hands and went back to the prison. The woman hadn't moved since their previous conversation. Valerie suddenly noticed a bad smell. "What is that?"

"Hjalprek."

"Who?"

"He was a Talos worshipper. Or maybe he wasn't. After some torture you would also confess believing in the Tiny White Mammoth. He died two days ago and nobody threw him down the hole, so he's rotting in his cell. At least he doesn't scream anymore."

"I guess I didn't notice the smell because the cave's odour killed my nose."

The elf chuckled. "Do you need anything more or can we go?"

"Let's get out of here." Val opened the cell door and cut the woman's bonds with a dagger.

The Altmer stood up, stretched and flexed her limbs carefully. "Wait a moment." She searched through a chest in the corner and came back with a thin, long knife and some rags. She wrapped the cloth around her feet.

Valerie's brow furrowed. "Why don't you loot a soldier?"

"I don't loot the dead as long as I can avoid it. And I like the cold. It makes my head clear."

With a sigh the human went to the trapdoor and opened it. She didn't want to go through the cave again, but Delphine waited at the end. At least she didn't have to suffer the darkness again; smiling happily the elf conjured a small light that hovered over her left shoulder.

After a long walk, Val saw a light at the end of the tunnel. Then she realized it was the white fur of a frost troll reflecting the shine of the elf's light. The beast grunted, turned around – and was hit by a fireball full in its face. Screaming loud enough to wake a bear in its hibernation, the troll ran away, out of the cave. Valerie looked at her companion. The other woman was grinning madly. Flames from her readied spells danced in her hands and up to the elbows. Shouting something – an Altmeri battle cry? – she sent another ball of fire after the beast.

"Who are you?", asked Val, not expecting an answer.

"I'm Aryna. Nice to meet you."


	4. Chapter 4

**Five chaters and a one shot**

**-because it has been too long since the last update (sorry, Internet started to make problems)**

**-because Number 4 isn't very good**

**-because I promised myself to write 3 chaps if I get an A on English**

**-because I can!**

**Enjoy.**

When they walked out of the cave, a snow-storm was raging. For a moment the two women stared in the white, cold chaos. Its force had obviously driven the troll to seek shelter inside the canal. "Well", Aryna said, "I like the cold, but not _that_ much. Care to stay here for a while?"

The other woman, who had introduced herself as Valerie ("or just Val, I don't mind"), looked nearly happy. "Yes, let's wait. I have a friend somewhere out there with two horses, but I hope she had the sense to seek shelter."

They walked a little farther inside and sat down on two rocks. An uncomfortable silence settled. Aryna decided to use the time for practice: She let little sparks fly on the walls of the cave, which were soon freckled with scorch marks. After some time, Valerie broke the silence: "Why have you been in there? And why do you know so much about the Thalmor's project?"

Aryna stood up. "I think I should go now." Something inside her said that she could trust this Imperial, but she didn't want to be betrayed again.

"Hey, wait! If you don't want to talk about it, it's okay." The elf turned around. "Really. Let me tell you a story and then you can decide if you trust me."

Aryna sat down again and the human smiled. "Let me tell you a story of…the Dragonborn. Three years ago, the Emperor was murdered on his ship. His crew was butchered and later they were buried in Solitude, including a lieutenant. He had a sister, who decided to take him home. To Skingrad. So she rode to Skyrim, but on the border she was caught by Imperial soldiers and sentenced to death. And then a dragon appeared.

"The woman found out that she was the Dragonborn. Born to slay dragons, to kill Alduin. And she accepted her destiny. When the World-Eater burned in Sovngarde, she forced the dragons in a truce that has been holding until now and hopefully forever. But the woman wanted a peaceful life. So she vanished and settled as a citizen in Falkreath.

"She married a Nord, lived happy and oblivious of the world in a place where nobody called her "Dragonborn" but "friend". Where people didn't bow when she greeted them. Where people sang the "Tale of the Tongues" because they liked it and not because she was with them. Three blissful years later an old friend appeared and persuaded the woman to do a last chore for Skyrim. And now I'm sitting here. With this story you could destroy my life forever. Do you trust me now?"

"So you are the Dragonborn." Aryna was startled. "Ah, this is…quite the story. Pray forgive me, but…could you give me a proof?"

"Sure." Valerie stood up and walked to the entrance of the cave. "Fus Ro Dah!"

"FalZhardum Din," whispered Aryna. The word appeared in her mind all of sudden, powerful and burning. _Go there. There are the answers._ The memories came back as a wave, making her feel like in a storm she had witnessed once when she was four. The rising water, seeking to drown her, to pull her under…

The elf gasped when snow hit her face. The coldness fought the memories, forced them back in a dark corner of her mind. Valerie was standing over her. "Aryna. Are you okay?"

"Yes, thank you." The Altmer found herself on the floor. "What happened?"

"I Shouted, then you said a strange word and fell to the floor." The human looked worried. "Is it a disease or…"

Aryna laughed weakly. "This would be nice. But I have a story too, and I think it's as impressive as yours…"

"I'm waiting."

"Okay... nearly four months ago I went to Skyrim to study further in Conjuration and Destruction magic because my old master died. One of his friends, known as the Caller, has an illegal mage college somewhere in Skyrim. I should have met a contact man in Riften, but at my arrival I was informed that her academy had been nearly destroyed. Most mages were dead, so they couldn't bring me there and I should wait for instructions.

"I met an Argonian who gave me a strange Dwemeri cube and asked me to bring it to Avanchnzel. I had enough time, but something went wrong. This ruin saved all the memories of the Dwemer and they entered me and now they haunt me all the time. They drive me slowly mad. Coldness and pain holds them at bay. I went to Calcelmo in Markarth, but his nephew betrayed me to the Thalmor. I don't know what FalZhardum Din means, but there are answers."

Valerie smiled: "That's impressive. Can't you just look in the memories what this words mean?"

"I don't dare to. They want to enter me and fill me and I don't know if I can fight them back again."

The two women sat in brooding silence for a moment. Then the Imperial grinned. "Do you know Septimus Signus?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5!**

**Think of Val as somebody who did the main quest as fast as possible and nothing else. That's why she is pretty unknown.**

**Enjoy.**

The storm had ended during their talk and the two women walked out in the snow. Aryna fell to her knees and pressed her face in the wonderful coldness. The memories were stronger now, a steady painful throbbing in her mind.

Valerie had described Signus as a devout of Hermaeus Mora, crazy and brilliant. That wasn't exactly what Aryna wanted, but what she needed. _Crazy and brilliant_, she thought, _could be me_.

A harsh voice interrupted her thoughts. "Who's that, Dra- Salvarus?"

"Just a prisoner. I'll take her with me. Don't worry, Delphine."

"Has she any information about the Dwemer?"

"No. Leave her alone."

Aryna looked up. A blond Breton woman stared at her with a scowl that could probably wither stones. She suddenly realized her looks: bruised, in rags, covered with snow. The elf stood up. "Nice to meet you."

This…Delphine ignored her completely. "Do you trust her? She's an Altmer."

_Bloody racist._ "Valerie freed me from the prison and I can promise you that I have no love for the Thalmor." Well, she had had a little crush on Ondolemar, before he ordered her torture. But he _was_ really cute.

"Can you go home alone, Delphine?" piped Valerie in. "I have to get Aryna to the border as fast as possible."

"Wait! What about the Dwemer?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry."

"You're hiding something, Dra- Salvarus."

"We have to go. _Now._" Valerie took the reins of the two horses behind Delphine, mounted one – a big one-eyed stallion – and signalled Aryna to take the other.

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Nearly three days passed. They first rode to Solitude and then, in the black of the night, crossed the huge river arm. Then they continued on the shore, where the waves of the Sea of Ghosts ran softly over the flat beach. A huge wall of ice and rock to their right hand, the grey-white, partly frozen waters to their left, the women faced no problems. The occasional sabre cat or pack of wolves didn't dare to attack them and even ice trolls or bears couldn't stand against magic and sword. Aryna even took the bath she had yearned for so long, although they lost half a day because she was chilled to the bone. She was happy.

"He lives out there." Valerie pointed somewhere in the fogs of the Sea of Ghosts. "As far as I know, he's still trying to open this huge whatever he has in his cave."

"Huge whatever?" Aryna giggled.

The human sighed. "Big, dwarven, strange box, _whatever_. I'm not an expert for the things creepy mages store in their caves. Anyway, we have to walk over these chunks of ice. Please don't take a second bath."

"And the horses?"

Valerie shrugged. "We'll have to hope that no predator comes by…Well, that's a good idea too."

While the Imperial spoke, Aryna conjured two Storm Atronachs. She spoke the words of permanent binding, then she told them in accented Daedric to stay and guard the nervous animals.

And then the two women continued their journey on the surface of the Sea of Ghosts, over the floating, slippery chunks of ice. Even sure-footed Valerie had problems not to fall in the freezing water, but Aryna was pretty helpless. Somehow they made it to a huge white island.

The human smiled. "Finally!" She opened a snow-covered trapdoor. "Septimus!", she cried. "I'm back! And I brought a friend with me."

Somehow Aryna didn't like the sound of this. When they entered the cave, she realized that her breath froze the moment it left her mouth, and she immediately felt better. Until she saw the man.

The Imperial wore blue mage's robes and had a big, bushy beard. Both his clothes and his facial hair were filthy and had a foul smell. His eyes gleamed in his face with a mad light that said he had been walking the Golden Road for a long, long time.

"When the top level was built, no more could be placed. It was and is the maximal apex!" the man said with a cackling laughter.

"Hello, Septimus." In a voice that sounded like it was especially used for children and lunatics and with a wide grin, Valerie greeted the madman: "My friend here has a question and can give you some of her blood in return. Fresh, living Altmeri blood. What do you say?"

"Give it! Quickly!"

"No, Septimus, answer our question first: What does FalZhardum Din mean?"

Suddenly the man seemed (more) confused. "The Dwemer were old. Even in the old times. They had so many secrets…and they locked them away! Where Septimus cannot reach them! Deep down and deeper still…and then up again. Secrets about the Scrolls and the hearts of long forgotten gods."

"What does it mean?"

"You have been there. FalZhardum Din, where the stars are only a memory. _Blackreach!_"

"No…" A shadow flickered across Valerie's face and suddenly she sounded desperate: "Septimus, are you sure?"

"Septimus does not know all secrets, but he knows more than one mind can hold. Yes. Blackreach. And now…" He grabbed Aryna's arm and poked it with a strange golden instrument. "Good! Her blood is good."

"Ouch!" the elf cried out in pain. "I still need my blood. Don't take that much!"

"Septimus needs only a little bit. One drop holds all I need, one box holds all I want. Look upon it and wonder!"

"This sounds like a good idea; we can't go back to the horses in the night. Can we stay here?"

"If you do not disturb the harmony with your humming; I have grown it in too many heartbeats to lose it now!"

"I think that means yes; go and look at his box, Aryna. It's really interesting."

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With some blankets, the two women made a bed on the icy floor. Valerie didn't like it very much, she complained a few times about it, but Aryna liked it. Yet she could not sleep. After a while, she whispered: "Valerie? Are you awake?"

"What?" came the hissed, sleepy answer.

"I think I know how to open his box. The memories showed me some magic. Dwemeri magic. About souls and metal and stone. I could make a hole in the wall…"

"Divines, no!" Now Valerie sounded very awake. "Do not open his box! As I know him, Oblivion would come to Nirn if he gets whatever is in it. I have great doubts if he could handle a spoon, so don't give him dwarven secrets!"

Silence came back. Then Aryna said quietly. "I'd like to know what is in it…"

"No!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Number 6. No more with Aryna's POV. But with my first attempt at writing a battle scene…**

**Huge Blackreach spoilers. At the end and in next chapter. Which will probably be the last. Or not.**

**Enjoy.**

"Thank you, Septimus", said Valerie after a long night on the hard, cold floor.

"Yes, thanks. Your box is very interesting." Thank the Divines Aryna had withstood the temptation and left the huge whatever in peace.

Septimus had a last mad advice for the couple: "You look to your left, you see one way. You look to your right, you see another. But neither is any harder than the opposite."

"It's always a pleasure to talk to you, Septimus. But we have to go now. See you!"

"Don't let the songs pull you under!"

With refreshed energy the women walked over the ice once more, back to the shivering, frightened horses. With a pat and a smile sent Aryna the Atronachs back to whatever pit of Oblivion they had come from.

Back on the road. _Four days ago I thought I had missed this life_, Val thought. "We'll go to Alftand, and then we are in Blackreach. It's a strange place, dangerous and beautiful, full of Falmer and Chaurus and huge glowing mushrooms."

"Sounds nice."

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Days came and went while the women made their way up the mountains seaming the Sea of Ghosts and through a country full of Stormcloaks who so _loved_ Imperials and Altmer, especially the crazy and suspicious looking ones. Luckily Alftand was near Winterhold which made their journey a short one.

Alftand itself was a typical dwarven ruin: Falmer, golden metal, Falmer, stone, Falmer, nasty traps, Falmer, Chaurus, Falmer, Falmeri poison, Falmer, dwarven monsters, Falmer… Aryna had a great time killing every single annoying being in the ruin, so Val hadn't had much to do but worry for her companion. The sight of dwarven stuff seemed to bring the strange memories back with full force: She hardly ever reacted to her name, her speech was laced with dwarven words, she hummed strange tunes and cast spells that looked very different of the usual destruction magic.

Yes, the Altmer had been an annoying company, but Val still felt like she'd lost something important. This new Aryna was absent-minded, cruel and made strange comments about how she would have to repair this broken "Animucus" (or whatever that word was).

As they entered Blackreach, it got even worse. The elf constantly spoke to herself in the dwarven language and soon she took the lead. But the worst happened when the women came to a big metal creature caught in a strange frame: Aryna's brow furrowed, then she murmured a word and cast a spell on the frame. It fell apart and freed the golden thing. The beast didn't attack, though, but hissed and released a cloud of steam, then it walked away. Soon they heard battle noises and the cries of Falmer.

"This was wrong," said Val, but Aryna just looked at her and went on.

After an hour of fighting, they arrived at the city in the middle of Blackreach. The small sun shone above them, fighting the eternal blue-green glow of the huge cave with a globe of warm orange light. Aryna stopped.

"What now?" asked the Imperial her companion, who pointed at the false sun.

"Stop!" a voice from behind called.

"Delphine!" hissed the elf.

"Why are you here? Did you follow us?"

The Breton looked tired, but a hot fire burned in her eyes. "Two horses with riders are an easy prey, Dra- Salvarus. But I couldn't catch you until now. We have to kill this Altmer. She's dangerous-"

"Yes, and I'm trying to fix it. Go home, Blade." Oblivion, Delphine was the last person she wanted here.

"Never! I do not want to disobey you, but what I do, I do for Tamriel, Akavir and the Emperor!"

"So be it!"

The humans drew their swords. Valerie carefully shielded Aryna, who obviously lost the interest in her coming death and just stared at the glowing orb above them.

_She's tired, but I fought all the time and she has always been better than me… Akatosh, guide my soul!_ Val's chances were small, but she didn't want her friend to die. A few minutes the women tried to find a gap in their opponent's guard but couldn't find any.

With a furious battle cry Delphine attacked. Her curved Akaviri sword bit in Val's quickly risen shield. The Imperial slashed at her foe, but she just dodged the blade and fought back with wild cuts, low, high, low, low and high again.

Valerie wore thick heavy armour, while the Blade was clad in boiled leather that offered hardly any protection but allowed her quick movements. The Dragonborn was soon forced in defence against the hard sword strikes, until she managed a desperate cut that bit in her opponent's side. Delphine seemed only more furious and she got faster and faster, despite the blood that flowed from her wound.

Suddenly Val fell to floor; the Breton had kicked her hard enough to send her to the ground. Now she ran to the absent-minded Altmer. Instinctively the Imperial broke an old promise – and Shouted the three words that had led them here: "Fus Ro Dah!"

She missed only by a few inches, but the Unrelenting Force rushed past her foe and hit the sun. It rang like a giant bell…

…and a scream answered.


	7. Chapter 7

**Aaand…Action!**

**Enjoy.**

The scream let them freeze. These sound had been unheard in Skyrim for three years and nobody would have expected in Blackreach.

Delphine and Val didn't know what to do, but Aryna laughed madly. She shouted some dwarven words that turned in a scream when Delphine stabbed her in the belly. Somehow Valerie managed to get to her feet and she ran to her friend who still howled in shock and pain. Then Delphine was gone in a rush of air, Val didn't see it, all happened so fast and _Divines, so much blood_…

"Cast a healing spell! Quickly!" she shouted at the screaming elf, but she just looked at her bloody hands, until a booming voice called something. Aryna seemed to wake from a dream and raised her hands. Blue light flowed over her body and entered it at the wound, which healed quickly. But Valerie had no time to be glad; a shudder went through the ground and she turned slowly around.

He was smaller than most of his race, with scales that looked violet in the blue-green twilight of Blackreach and burning like flames in the soft glow of the false sun; under a real sky, their colour would probably have been a fading red. His carefully folded wings were black as charcoal and his voice deep thunder when he spoke: "Drem, Dovahkiin. I do not wish to fight."

"D-drem Yol Lok," she said shocked.

"Drem Yol Lok, Kriidsedov. Tahrodiis Paarthurnax has trained you well, I see. As I am your elder in this tinvaak, I shall speak first, geh?"

"Geh." Yes.

"I do not want to fight you; I have never been a kendov and your thu'um is strong. I do not wish to share my brethren's fate. But neither am I a zaam. I will not bow to you, even if this means my eternal death. Zu'u ni Paarthurnax, zu'u ni tahrodiis. If you want my obedience, I shall krif voth ahkrin."

Val didn't understand a lot of the draconic words, but the meaning was clear; we accept each other's presence. We are not allies, we are not enemies. "Thank you, uh…"

"Zu'u Vulthuryol."

"Yes. Well, my friend here has a problem. There are dwarven memories in her head and strange things are happening with the ruins in Skyrim. We managed to go to Blackreach because Aryna knows some dwarven magic, but the cities have sealed themselves and nobody knows what's going on. Down here should be something that can give us answers."

"This would be me, Dovahkiin. Let me talk to the fahliil in a language we both understand…"

For about half an hour the dragon talked to Aryna in the dwarven language and Val tried to figure this out: A dragon. In Blackreach. Talking dwarven…dwarvish…whatever. And he seemed pretty happy. And Delphine wasn't here anymore. The Imperial looked at the dragon. Well, her disappearance wasn't a big riddle.

"Dovahkiin" Vulthuryol called. "I know where you have to go. Brom. Far north. Your fahdon will know what to do." He unfurled his wings and seemed ready to fly away.

"Wait!" shouted Val. "Could I ask you a few more questions?"

The dragon looked interested: "What do you need, Dovahkiin?"

"Why are you down here?"

He sighed. "I was never the one for fight. While my brothers ruled the skies, I looked for secrets. Back in the old times, I often traded with the joorre. Secret for secret… And then I made a pact with a race of fahliil. Dwemer they said, dwarves you say. They were sahrot. Like in the kruziik bok: voth aan suleyk wah romiith faal krein. They read the kelle and the stars and played with their magic. But they were scared because a kel told them that the gods would kill them if they didn't stop.

"They wanted to vanish from fin lein. So they built two places where they stored their sille. Here and far north in Bthezdar. It was no effort for them. These power… But they didn't trust the blind ones and they needed an unslaad vahlok to guard their sille forever. We made a pact. I will stay here until the stars fall from the skies, and they gave me all their memories. Like your fahdon. But my hahdrim could handle it. Her's didn't."

"So it could be done here? Whatever is needed to cure her mind?"

"Niid." He sounded sad. "They made FalZhardum Din to be sure. Only as…safety? Their power is in Bthezdar. Like a heart and a brain."

"And the ruins won't do something bad?"

He laughed. "They are merely waiting. Like…the silence before the storm. If nothing happens and the fahliil is alright again, they will continue like she had never existed."

Vulthuryol wouldn't like her next question, but she was curious. "Don't you miss your brothers?"

"Geh." He sighed again. "But we were never close. Meyye. Suleyk like mine could have brought them the world. They just laughed. 'Vulthuryol! Mey! Digging for knowledge like a dok for a qeth.' Now I know I could have saved them. Krosis. But my deeds are done and I shall live with them."

Valerie hesitated. "Numinex went mad," she said quietly.

"Zeymah." His eyes closed briefly. "Geh. I know what you mean. But I am far from the skies; I can fly if I want to; it was my choice; the memories are an excellent pastime." He paused and when he continued, he sounded ancient and sorrowful. "Go now, Dovahkiin. I am…tired. Your appearance has remembered me of brothers to mourn." He said a few last words to Aryna, then he unfurled his black wings and flew away.

"Thank you!" shouted Val after him, but only the silence answered her.

**Next should be the last one!**

**Here the translations for the Draconic words:**

**Drem-peace**

**Dovahkiin-Dragonborn**

**Drem Yol Lok-Peace Fire Sky; greetings**

**Kriidsedov-Slayer of dragons**

**Tahrodiis-treacherous**

**Tinvaak-talk (noun)**

**Geh-yes**

**Kendov-warrior**

**Thu'um-Shout**

**Zaam-slave**

**Zu'u-I am**

**Ni-not**

**Krif voth ahkrin-fight with courage**

**Fahliil-elf**

**Brom-north**

**Fahdon-friend**

**Joorre-mortals**

**Sahrot-mighty**

**Kruziik bok-ancient song**

**Voth aan suleyk wah romiith faal krein-with a power to rival the sun**

**Kel(le)-(Elder) Scroll(s)**

**Fin lein-the world**

**Sille-souls**

**Unslaad vahlok-eternal/immortal guardian**

**Hahdrim-mind**

**Mey(ye)-fool(s)**

**Suleyk-power**

**Dok-dog**

**Qeth-bone**

**Krosis-sorrow; I'm sorry; regret**

**Zeymah-brother**


	8. Chapter 8

**The End…after this I'll post a message in an extra chapter, don't read if it my messages annoy you.**

**Anyway, thanks to my two stalkers and a mental hug for Newtimpls…Newton…oh, the only person who reviewed my chapters! AND gave me by a simple comment the perfect way to end this story! AND is just fantastic! Go and read Newimpulse's stuff! (I'll do it too. Very soon. Promised. When 'net stops making problems.)**

**Enjoy.**

On the way back to the north Valerie had a lot of time for thinking. Only two weeks ago she had lived a peaceful life and her future was more or less settled. She didn't know how she felt about this situation.

Aryna hadn't spoken since her talk with Vulthuryol, but her silence "sounded" like she was too busy with thinking and had neither time nor nerve for something as mundane as conversation. She led her companion north, more or less back on their way they had taken to Alftand. Then they rode again along the coastline, west this time. But their journey couldn't have been differently. The elf drove the horses hard from dawn till dusk, with only a few short pauses. The evenings were short and silent.

Val really missed the old Aryna by the time the Altmer signalled her to dismount. She pointed out on the Sea of Ghosts. _More ice-chunk-hopping_, thought Valerie, but she didn't dare to complain. This time, the elf conjured no atronachs, but the Dragonborn doubted she still knew the spell.

At least the mer had no problem with the ice this time. Probably a dwarf had loved jumping over the Sea of Ghosts and knew how to move on the slippery frozen water. In fact, Aryna was too fast: Val missed a step and fell in the cold water.

Her armour pulled her under immediately; dragon bones weren't a very light material. And she had never been a good swimmer. The coldness drew the power from her limbs. _Up_, she thought. _To the light…_

Suddenly she felt thin arms pull her to the surface. Somebody was next to her and brought her out of the water. She was hauled on one of the larger icy island in the sea of fragments.

Aryna had saved her. She stood next to the Imperial, who saw for a moment the old shine in her eyes, the old smile curling around her lips. When Val was more or less okay again, the elf would surely make a funny comment. She could already hear it. Maybe _Why did you suddenly need a bath?_

But then the small spark of the real Aryna vanished and left the cold dwarven expression. Her brow furrowed, then she cast a spell on her companion that dried and warmed her and left her in a better condition than before their bath. Yet Valerie felt colder than ever.

The last part of their journey passed without accidents. Finally Aryna signalled a halt somewhere in the middle of nowhere. If Val hadn't known that north was the direction in which they looked, she would have been without orientation.

The elf spoke. In dwarven language, of course. For a few minutes she just talked with a monotonous voice, then she suddenly screamed something like a command and deep red light flowed from her raised hands and down in the ice-covered water. And something answered. Waves started to rock the chunks of ice. Luckily Val didn't fall in the water again because her friend probably wouldn't have pulled her out again.

"Aryna, I think we –"

The Altmer shouted again and again came an answer: The water seemed to boil now, but Val heard a hissing and thrumming, like ancient dwarven machines starting for the first time in eternities, under the splashing. Somehow the elf managed to stay afoot and she issued a third cry that provoked a third respond.

A few hundred metres away, the surface of the sea exploded and shot water and ice in every directions. Steam rose as a thin veil to the misty sky but couldn't hide the thing emerging from the waves.

A whole Dwemeri ruin – no. This was a _city_, untouched by the centuries on the ground of the Sea of Ghosts. The water that covered the ancient halls froze immediately, covering every inch of the structure. It caught the light and let the bronze-golden roofs shine like newly polished metal, let the stone shimmer like smooth ice, pronouncing the edges and curves and enhancing the size of the city – Bthezdar – from vast to bigger than any mind could comprehend. Val's gaze ran over halls and archways, found balconies and towers, followed pipes…

"Hey, wait!" While she had looked in awe, Aryna walked without hesitation to the main entrance. Val had to run to catch up with her and reached her friend when she laid one hand on the huge golden doors. The elf whispered a word and the entrance opened with a soft hiss. After the two women had gone through it, the doors closed and sealed themselves again.

At least the interior of the huge city was similar to the normal ruins in Skyrim. The design was the same, but the buildings were still whole and the air smelled strange. Valerie need long to puzzle out what was different: This city had obviously never been inhabited. In the ruins one breathed the same air as the Dwemer while they lived there, but this air was clean. The woman wondered what "Bthezdar" meant. City of the Dead, built by the Dead?

And there was another difference Val was very grateful for. While they walked through the hallways for hours, they met a lot of Dwemeri constructs: spiders, ball-things and once or twice even a huge steam-breathing beast. But instead of attacking them, they kind of saluted Aryna. They hissed or showed their weapons as a silent greeting.

They must have walked for four or five hours until Val realized that her friend was looking different. Of course it could have been the strange light, but Aryna's skin looked more grey than golden and her eyes seemed smaller and darker, while the bones of her face were more prominent. Then Valerie looked away for a second and the changes vanished.

_Just my nerves. I've been in too many ruins to feel well. In a few hours Aryna is cured and we'll share a drink or three in the Nightgate Inn… Three, definitely…_

Then the elf stopped in front of a pair of huge doors. Again she laid one hand on the golden plates and whispered a word. And again they opened.

Behind them was a great hall, like a square amphitheatre. But the seats were as empty as the arena in the middle. Over it, under the ceiling, hovered an orange orb, about the size of the sun in Blackreach. Violet and red lights constantly ran over it, dancing like sparks in the hand over a mage. And yes, magic was in the air. It felt thick and nearly touchable.

Suddenly something moved next to Val and she jerked, but then she realized she had stared at the orb enthralled till she forgot her friend. The elf smiled, for the first time since Alftand. A bright, warm, real smile, like one smiles in the moments of absolute happiness. She stared at the sun-thing and raised her arms like she wanted to embrace the soft shine and the lights answered, jumped from the ball on her skin and then down on the floor.

People – ghosts – formed out of the lights. They wore strange robes and looked a little bit like dark elves, but they were still violet and red and Val could see right through them.

One of them, a man with a square beard, said something and the other Dwemer repeated his words and Aryna laughed loud. Then she reached for the man and he touched her skin and suddenly her body was gone. She stood there as another ghost between the dead.

The Altmer cocked her head and seemed to ask something. After she had received an answer, she turned around and raised a hand in manner of greeting in Val's direction. "Thank you, my friend."

Then all the ghosts – including Aryna – dissolved in red and violet lights and raised back to the orb.

**Is this an end? YES!**

**Or maybe it isn't. I have ideas for a 2****nd**** part, but no promises. Thanks for reading.**


	9. Chapter 9

**This is not an extra chapter. It's just a few words by me, the author.**

**So, thanks again to my supporters.**

**Now I know what I did wrong (I noticed while reading and writing. Not because of a load of reviews. Bad people!)-I hope it gets better in the next FF.**

**Next I will correct AK, write at least 2 one-shots in addition to this story, maybe continue it,…but my new story comes first. It's either about the main quest or – since I installed all 3 DLC recently – about one of them.**

**Oh, and my OC's? Well, I'm not done with Aryna. She's a "real" Dragonborn and I like her very much. She will have a lot of one-shots, most of them based on events that really happened to her in Skyrim. But Val will probably show up in other FanFics, as Dragonborn or something.**

**Guddie, that's it. *presses "Complete" button***


End file.
